


The Trouble With Turtles

by panpinecone



Series: Candy Canes And Kittens [2]
Category: Metal Gear, Super Mario & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abduction, Aftercare, Anal Sex, Consent Play, Crossdressing, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, M/M, Repressed Memories, Rough Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Situational Humiliation, Size Difference, Transformation, Turtle Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:23:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panpinecone/pseuds/panpinecone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santa decides that Ocelot needs to be punished. A not-so-unexpected twist can only serve to strengthen the lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trouble With Turtles

**Author's Note:**

> The initial premise and majority of the scenes focus heavily on non-con elements.

A strangled cry escaped Ocelot, his hand muffling the noise too late.

He shifted around inside the sack, heartbeat fast against his ribcage as he was hoisted up and carried away. Height, pace, lumbering footfalls— everything pointed towards his would-be kidnapper being anyone but Santa.

The shivers racking his frame saw a dramatic increase despite the relatively mild temperature. It was the sort of warm he hadn't felt in months, but his skimpy dress covered much too little for him to fully appreciate it. He knew Santa had left him as far south of the North Pole as could be managed, but he never expected that someone would stroll by and literally snatch him up and away during the punishment.

He doubted raising any sort of fuss would help. Whoever he was getting carried off by was clearly more than capable of overpowering him if need be. As for outside help, Ocelot doubted there was any to be found. One person in the area was strange enough, but two was pushing it.

He curled further in on himself and wrapped satin-gloved arms around his knees. Each step the kidnapper took seemed to shake the ground beneath them, every tremor accompanied by the soft jingling of the bells adorning Ocelot's boots.

Questions began pooling in his mind, gradually turning it into a murky swamp of confusion. Who knew where this stranger was taking him, what they planned on doing to him once there, or even whether he'd see Santa ever again?

But no, that was preposterous. Santa could easily come to his rescue if anything went wrong.

His throat constricted as a terrible thought occurred to him. What if Santa _didn't_ want them seeing each other again? What if he'd left Ocelot there and _hoped_ someone would come by and take him off his hands forever?

After all, Ocelot's punishments were rarely so severe. He'd endured many of them throughout his time by Santa's side, each one varying in graveness and intensity from the rest, but none compared to what was currently happening.

Had he really made himself such a nuisance in Santa's eyes? Ocelot was well-aware that his actions often warranted some type of discipline, but he'd never imagined that Santa would want to be rid of him. Certainly not in so cruel a manner.

His mounting worries were brought to an abrupt halt when the stranger carrying him stopped walking and slowly shuffled around in place. Ocelot barely had time to hazard a guess as to what was happening before he found himself leaning on a smooth, curved surface. Though his first thought was of a small chamber, the realization that he was also partially pressed against several blunt spikes distracted him from further theorizing. They weren't particularly painful, but they were hardly comfortable either.

Regardless of the tight fit, he felt the sack being pulled along, traveling downwards...

...Or was it upwards?

He suddenly wasn't sure anymore, but he no longer found himself sinking into the spikes, gravity content to let him lightly dangle away from them instead. At around the same time, there was a noticeable shift in the temperature, prompting a shudder as his body shook off the last vestiges of the cold.

He soon felt the sack get hoisted higher and, after a moment, he was free of the chamber. The lumbering footsteps continued as before, only now echoing against hard, solid ground.

He started running dozens more scenarios through his mind, only to be interrupted by the sack getting unceremoniously dropped. Mercifully, it was onto a cushioned surface, and he had just enough time to regain his bearings when the sack was torn open, the room's meager light enough to temporarily blind him after so long in the dark.

“Bwa ha ha! You're _mine_ now, pretty thing.”

One second he was squinting up at the hulking figure of his captor, eyes struggling to make out a haphazard mishmash of both human and inhuman features, and the next he'd been shoved onto his back, captor looming over him.

“What... What are you?” he asked, taking in the snarling face before him.

His captor's gruff voice came again, pride tinting it as he replied, “I'm _King Bowser_. This is my castle, my room— and you'll _never_ escape!”

That didn't answer Ocelot's question, but it hardly mattered. The scaled yellow skin, spiked green shell, and mouthful of sharp teeth all spoke for themselves: His captor was evidently some manner of monstrous overgrown turtle.

A shiver ran through him as the self-proclaimed 'King Bowser' trailed a clawed, meaty hand down his torso. A rough yank later and the skirt of his tailor-made dress, gifted to him by Santa in the early days of their relationship, was torn completely off, leaving him entirely exposed if not for the indecent panties he was sporting.

“What a sorry excuse for underwear,” growled Bowser before ripping them away too.

Ocelot's mind finally caught up to what was happening and he scrambled to escape, but despite his best efforts, Bowser easily pinned him to what he now realized was a bed, large and hefty like its owner. “Let me go!” he yelled and lashed out, fists futile against Bowser's bulk.

A roaring laugh boomed out above him. “Or _what?”_

“Or... Or... Or Santa's going to come after you!”

His words were met with an even louder laugh, reverberating in the spacious bedroom. With a final yank, what little remained of his dress was forcefully removed.

Rapidly losing his composure at the situation, Ocelot repeated, “You don't know what he's capable of! If you don't stop, Santa's going to—”

“ _Santa's_ not going to be doing _anything,_ ” said Bowser, pulling himself off of Ocelot and letting him take the opportunity to scramble backwards. “See that?” Bowser asked, pointing at a shelf opposite the bed. “Right at the top?”

Ocelot hesitated a moment before glancing at the location in question, eyes narrowing as he tried to make out what seemed to be...

A camera?

“That's right, I've got a camera sending out a live feed of this room. Can you guess who's watching?”

Understanding hit Ocelot like a ton of bricks. He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “You're bluffing.”

Bowser lumbered back towards the bed, shaking his head. “Got no reason to. Why's it so hard to believe that your precious Santa would want proof that you're getting the punishment you deserve?” he sneered.

“No...” said Ocelot breathlessly, “Santa wouldn't have wanted this. He'd never leave me with someone else while he just kept watch from afar.”

“Ha! You should be thankful he's even watching, probably doesn't want his pet ruined,” Bowser commented as he clambered back onto the bed and reached for Ocelot. “Now relax. Or don't, I couldn't care less either way.”

There was no time for Ocelot to escape before the claws closed around one of his ankles and pulled him back underneath Bowser. He'd barely renewed his struggles when he felt something wet brush against his thigh. Upon glancing down, he was confronted with what appeared to be Bowser's purplish cock poking at him. Its stubby, handlike appearance had him jerking away in surprise, but Bowser was quick to grab hold of his legs to keep him in place.

Without further ado, Bowser dragged him closer, then lined up and pushed forward. Ocelot grimaced at the sensation of Bowser's cock teasing his entrance, working its way in and twitching as it went. Though diminutive in comparison to its owner, it still took some time before most of it was inside.

Bowser huffed in satisfaction when he bottomed out at last, leaning over and placing his hands on either side of Ocelot's head.

Surrounded so completely, it was all Ocelot could do to relax around the sizable intrusion. Just as soon as he'd finally adjusted, the feeling of his insides suddenly getting stretched much more thoroughly wrought forth a startled gasp from him. It felt as though Bowser's cock had undergone a rapid growth spurt, thickening and elongating within a matter of seconds, blossoming inside him like some sort of horrifying meat flower.

Filled to such a nearly impossible degree, squirming away no longer seemed like an option, and so Ocelot was forced to remain still and focus on simply breathing.

Bowser's heavy pants came as a blessing, giving him something to distract himself from the fact that he'd now had yet another cock inside him.

_And still not John's..._

His eyes flew open, staring up at Bowser with furious determination. He refused to think about any of _that_ , not while he was in the middle of something so unrelated. He hit his fists against Bowser's torso once more, frustration fueling his blows.

“Real feisty, aren't you?” Bowser chuckled as he shifted around on the bed. “I can work with that.”

He pulled out and violently thrust back into Ocelot, setting a brutal pace and wreaking havoc on his insides with every push and pull. Ocelot's entire body was carelessly jostled with the force of it all, leaving him howling at the newfound sensations as he scrabbled at the bedsheets.

After a minute of getting feverishly plowed, he found himself staring at the camera on the shelf unseeingly, lost in thoughts of Santa watching the events that had unfolded. What would he think of Ocelot after everything was over and done with? Of the way he looked, still in his festive gloves and boots, getting thoroughly defiled by a _turtle,_ of all things?

His self-reflection was interrupted by Bowser pulling out to flip him over, reentering him in one swift jab and eliciting another cry from his battered form. Huge hands grasped at his midsection, pulling him into a kneeling position and holding him there as the thrusting resumed.

Ocelot brought his hands to Bowser's arms, holding himself up and marveling at the difference in size between them. It was a miracle he hadn't been torn apart yet...

As if reading his thoughts, Bowser guffawed and remarked, “You might just be ready for your punishment now.”

Ocelot was about to voice his confusion over the statement when all the wind got knocked out of him. He barely registered a tear running down his cheek, the pain only truly hitting him a few seconds later. Looking down again, he realized Bowser had somehow grown in size, the arms previously used to hold him up now big and strong enough to bodily lift him up and down the accompanying enlarged cock.

There was a minute during which neither of them spoke, both halting all their movement as best they could in favor of taking labored breaths. Ocelot felt Bowser's chest rhythmically rising and falling against his back, the steady presses helping prevent his own shivers from escalating. Already, he knew his insides had been ruined beyond anything they'd undergone ever before, and it took all his willpower to contain the pained sobs welling up in his throat.

Eventually, voice coming out more broken than he'd thought it might, he begged, _“Please don't._ ”

Bowser's hold on him tightened at the words, not deterred in the slightest. By way of an answer, he gave a single plunge into Ocelot, wrenching free a strangled cry and renewed shudders of his comparatively small frame.

_"Stop, it hurts!"_

At that, Bowser was off, violently fucking Ocelot as if he were nothing more than a mere sex toy, body easily held and protests easily ignored. Every stab of Bowser's hips brought forth a litany of screams interspersed with more pleas for him to stop, each sounding more desperate than the last.

“Not so tough now, are you? Maybe I really _will_ just keep you for myself...”

_“No, no, let me go!”_

“Absolutely not, you're just the right size to take my cock without dying. Might get a few more uses out of you yet. And it's not like anyone's going to miss you enough to come looking!”

Ocelot grit his teeth against the accusation. His Santa would _never_ leave him at the mercy of an enormous horny turtle! As soon as it became evident that Bowser was keeping him locked up, Santa was sure to storm in and whisk him away.

He wouldn't have to stay, he'd see Santa again...

_And John..._

He thrashed against the hands wrapped around him and felt Bowser's cock straining against his abdominal wall. The cruel laughter he received for his efforts had him letting out another anguished scream before falling limp against the continued onslaught and whimpering, _“S- S- Santa, help!”_

 

* * *

 

“And then he grew and it felt like I was about to get torn in two,” Ocelot said, nuzzling into Santa's warm chest. He smirked softly to himself. “Once I got over the shock, it wasn't half bad.”

Santa's chest rocked with laughter at the pun. Smoothing a hand over Ocelot's back, he asked, “Did you enjoy your present, Mrs. Claus?”

“It was _perfect_. But I'll admit I was surprised to actually get kidnapped in the first place. And how did you manage to get Bowser on board, anyway?”

“As soon as I mentioned owning a pretty pussycat eager to take the biggest cock around, he was all ears. From there it was just a matter of drafting up the contract, getting him to pay up—”

Ocelot shushed him with an impromptu kiss, pulling away and grinning playfully. “You love your jokes, don't you?”

“And you love yours,” Santa replied, voice dipping lower as he gave Ocelot an unsubtle once-over. The hand he'd had on Ocelot's back drifted down to fondle his ass.

There was a pause during which they silently regarded each other, and then the moment passed. Ocelot darted forward again and kissed Santa in earnest, hands kneading at his shoulders and practically purring into his mouth as their kisses grew more heated.

Ocelot knew it couldn't last forever; he knew that one day he'd return to John's side.

He'd be thankful when that day came.

But he'd make the most of his days by Santa's side for as long as they lasted.

**Author's Note:**

> [Turtle penises can seem short and stubby before they're fully expanded.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Ly8eXbEnF8)


End file.
